


Marilyn Girl

by Anonymous



Category: Daredevil (Comics)
Genre: 50s, 60s, Angst, Blood, College, Marilyn Monroe - Freeform, Murder, Symbolism, Trauma, cutting hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 17:11:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20049610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Hair has always been a symbol during different parts of Elektra’s life.Set during #168 - 181, and the years before.





	Marilyn Girl

**Author's Note:**

> I word vomited this, so I’m not sure if it’s any good. I hope you all like it though.  
The college parts are set in the 50s, and the comic parts in the 60s.  
I’ve also made a few changes to canon, but not much imo.

When Elektra first met Matt, her hair fell past her shoulders. Unnaturally straight and outdated. Though she didn't know that until she got to campus, and saw the other girls' hair. Short and styled.

On their first date, Matt sticks a rose behind her ear, and brushes her hair away from her face. Setting her skin on fire, and leaving her cheeks hurting from smiling.

Eventually she shows up to his place with a new look. Her hair cut short, and left in its natural curly state. She's always hated not to be stylish.

When she enters the dorm, after sneaking from her own room and security, Matt comes over and places a hand on her hips. Feeling her up through her pants, though she doesn't mind. They've already done things they're not supposed to do until marriage.

Not that it matters. They're going to get married. One day. Though he hasn't proposed yet, they both know he's going too.

His hand reaches up and caresses her face, then her neck. "Your hair is shorter." He runs a hand through her thick curls. Messing up the neat style. Not that she minds.

"Yes. I got it cut. The hairstylist said it made me look like Liz Taylor."

"Really? I always pictured you as more of a Marilyn girl."

"Have you even seen a Marilyn movie?" Elektra's voice is light and teasing.

He shakes his head, and points to his eyes. "This kinda affects me seeing movies Olive Oil." A goofy grin stretches across his face.

"Then how do you what a Marilyn girl is?" She loops her arms around his neck.

"Descriptions from Foggy. You're also the only girl I've dated who's whole body isn't covered up by a poodle skirt. Very Marilyn esq of you. I appreciate that." He grins, and she can't help but lean up and kiss him.

"Do you want to see how Marilyn I can be?" There's a hidden meaning to her words, and he hears it loud and clear. He hoists her up, and her legs go around her waist. Clutching him as he drops her on his bed.

"My hair!" Elektra exclaims dramatically, as it's ruined by the impact.

Matt runs a hand over her body as he leans over her. "You don't care about your hair." He states.

"No, I don't." She breathes before he leans down and kisses her. Sending her into euphoria.

* * *

By the time of the hostage situation, her hair is nearly shoulder length. Grown from the cute bob she had gotten nearly a year before.

Once it's all over, and her Poppa is dead, his blood sits in it. Caking it. A permanent stain, echoing the one on her heart.

She shaves her head just before the funeral. Trying to free herself from the grief clinging to her like a second skin. It doesn't work.

Instead all it does is leave her bald, and needing a headscarf to cover it.

Matt is supportive of the decision. He's supportive of whatever she does. He acts like he doesn't miss running his hands through it when she lays beside him. Wide awake, and unable to sleep.

No, he says that he prefers the feel of the silk scarfs on her head, to her actual hair. Elektra doesn't need his heightened senses to know it's a lie.

When she eventually leaves him, a broken woman, she wraps her head in the scarf she wore to her Poppa's funeral, and fights back the urge to crumble as she walks away.

When she arrives at her destination, she destroys the scarf. Not needing the reminder of what she's done. Though she remembers. She always remembers.

* * *

When she joins The Chaste, her hair is still gone, and Stick doesn't have to tell her to shave it. She trains while staying bald. The Chaste way. Not letting herself think of how long it would be now, if she was still with Matt.

Her hair is to her ears when The Hand recruits her. Stick having kicked her out months earlier. Elektra thinks in a few months it'll be like it was when she first cut it. When Matt ran his hands through it, and called her a Marilyn girl.

Even with its short length, the blood of her sensai sprays across it when she kills him. Unaware at the time, that it's him she's killing.

She shaves it again afterwards, even though The Hand doesn't require it of trainees. She needs the blood gone again. She can't stand it in her hair. Anywhere but her hair. Especially when it belongs to someone she held dear.

When she realizes The Hand isn't for her either, her hair is once more curling around her ears. She hadn't kept it shaved the whole time, like she did with The Chaste.

She hones her skills afterwards. Becomes better. Becomes faster. Becomes lethal.

When the time comes for her first job, her hair brushes below her breasts. She keeps it straight. Finding her curls a distraction while she works. The red bandana she favours, not keeping it from her face.

When Elektra does her first job, she's detached. No emotion invested as she works. She can't have emotion. Not in this world.

It isn't until she sees the wedding ring on his finger, does she pause. She knew he was married, it's his wife that put out the hit after all. Tired of his cheating, and angry at his loss of their money.

Seeing the bloody ring, stirs something inside her. Memories hit her as he looks up at her in fear. His broken body laying at her feet.

As she lifts the sai she's made deadly, she speaks almost absentmindedly. "I was going to be married once." Then she slits his throat. The blood spraying her face and hair.

She slips back to her hotel without being noticed. When she looks into the bathroom mirror later, she sees the blood on her. Now dried and ghastly.

She washes it off her face with a wet cloth, then grabs her sai. It's pure impulse when she use it again. Cutting her hair off to her chin with a single cut. It's jagged, but she doesn't care.

Elektra looks into the mirror once more and nearly cries. Her hair is almost an identical length to when she cut it in college. The style now a crooked 'Liz Tyler.'

She falls to the floor. Her costume on the floor beside her, as she curls into a ball. The words Marilyn girl running through her head in circles, until she eventually passes out from exhaustion.

* * *

When her eventual return to New York happens many years later, her hair is now past her bust. Long and lose as she races through the city. Avoiding Hell's Kitchen like the plague. She'll never take a job there.

Blood in her hair no longer bothers her. It's a daily occurrence, and she can't stand to have it short again. Not when all she sees is Matt in front of her. Reaching to touch it. Exploring the new world that it is.

The bandana helps keep it from her face. Making it easy to work, even with her hair down. She's schooled herself to stop putting so much emotion into how her hair is, but sometimes, she still thinks if Matt would like it this long.

Those thoughts are always quickly destroyed.

When she realizes he's Daredevil on that early morning, the rain has drenched her hair. Leaving it clinging to her skin.

Elektra's heart nearly explodes from her chest when he kisses her, and brushes it from her face. His thumb caressing her cheek.

_He still loves me_. She stays on the ground once he is gone, for what feels like hours. Crying and mourning all she's lost. Tormented with bitter anguish.

The only thing that makes her move, is the sound of sirens in the distance. She takes off. She leaves for Paris, but she knows can't leave New York for good. Not now. Not with the kiss leaving her lips afire.

She finds an excuse to return, The Hand giving it her on a sliver platter. They plan to murder Matt, and she'll never let that happen.

The return to New York is excruciating, but she returns all the same. Needing to save him, unlike how she didn't save her father. Her Poppa.

She tries to tell herself she hates Matt, but deep inside Elektra knows she doesn't. If she did, she wouldn't be returning. Truthfully, she has no right to hate him, no, he's the one that deserves to hate her. Not the other way around.

She left him. Abandoned him. Leaving him all alone once his own father was gone.

When she kills that Hand ninja, saving Matt's life, no blood stains her hair. No, The Hand do not bleed. Not like her. Not like Matt.

She retreats before he knows it's her who saved him. Her hair blowing in the wind as she watches. Content to see him safe, before she disappears again.

Elektra tells herself that once he's safe for good, she'll be gone forever. Yet she knows that isn't true. That kiss has sent her world on his head. She can't leave now. Not that she's had another taste.

So she stays. Gets a permanent job as Kingpin's assassin. She knows Matt will never take her back now. Especially with the girl she found in his apartment, keeping him warm at night, but the thought of seeing him again is worth it. Even as foes. Mortal enemies.

Even without the Kingpin’s jobs, she stays intertwined in his life. Saving Melvin Potter. Foiling each plot against him time after time. Letting him into her hotel room without quibble. Nonchalantly changing in front of him.

Though Elektra tells herself it's nothing as he's blind, but she knows the truth. She wants him to 'see' her. To crave her skin like he once did.

She can't let him die. She can't lose him. She'd go insane with grief. She can't lose her Four Eyes. Not like that.

She deals with The Hand as she continues to work. Matt following her each step of the way. Tying to arrest her multiple times.

She doesn't let him stop her. She can't. Elektra won't let herself become who she once was again. The woman he loved. She goes as far as rejecting him when she secretly wishes to embrace him.

Though she always lures him back, even when she says she doesn't want that. Doesn't want him.

Something about it makes her feel nineteen again. Young and in love. Wanting to change the world. Though she won't dare to breathe a word of this to him. No, he must think he's nothing to her.

That's why her words are always sharp. Cruel and uncaring as they speak. An image of unsympathy.

What Matt doesn't know is that Elektra dreams on the days they meet. They're dreams of hope. Of longing. Of a world where her father is alive. A world where they're married.

When she awakes, she thinks for a moment, that maybe they can be together again. Make it work. Then she shoos it away.

They aren't meant for each other anymore. She's corrupted, and she won't corrupt him in the process. They're not destined for one another. Unlike what they once thought.

When she gets Foggy Nelson as a target, she's determined to prove it. Kill him. Kill any chance with Matt.

The night before the job, she grabs her sai, like she did all those years ago, and lifts it to to her hair. Wanting to be his Marilyn girl one last time, before it all dies for good. Blazing to smouldering ruin like a dastardly fire.

The sai is on the edge of cutting it, before she stops. _He doesn't have this control over you. _She scolds herself as she puts the sai down. _What does Foggy Nelson and Matt Murdock mean to you? A job. That's it._ She mentally scoffs as she enters her hotel kitchen.

She's there for a moment, before she reaches and grabs a pair scissors. Hidden away in a drawer. She gives herself bangs without a second thought, before heading to bed.

* * *

When she captures Foggy, Elektra believes this is the end for both of them. Her soul will be destroyed by this kill. Darkened to an unimaginable degree.

Then he recognizes her, and her world tilts once again at the hand of Matt Murdock. "Go." She orders coolly. Not letting him know her inner turmoil.

She needs to flee. Her life is now forfeit. She has to go. She can't stay here. Kingpin will have her head.

Before she can run, she hears another set of footsteps. She hears the gun clock, and she turns. Attacking Bullseye before he attacks her.

They fight and fight. Her hair swishing as she moves. Silent and deadly. Like only a former member of The Hand could.

Elektra wants to win. Wants to live. For Matt. It's always for Matt.

She's so close to winning, and then- hot white pain in her body. Her own sai, used against her. She's dying. She's dying.

Bullseye laugh maliciously as she flees. She needs Matt. After everything, she needs Matt.

She uses her little strength left to go to his side. Crawling across town. Almost a corpse. People stare and point, but no one helps. She probably wouldn't have let them if they tried.

She collapses on his doorstep, and Matt's on the stairs a moment later. Pulling her into his arms. "Elektra, stay with me." He begs. Even after everything, he doesn't want her to die.

She tries to speak. To apologize. To confess her love. To say anything meaningful, but she can't. The blood gurgling in her throat.

He brushes the hair away from her face, and she can't help but sob. Memories of a college dorm room assaulting her. Of tangled sheets and young lovers. Marilyn girls and Elvis records.

"Matt." She manages to croak raspily as he runs a hand across her forehead. Pushing away her new bangs as he kisses it.

Elektra breathes her last as he holds her tight. Content to die in the arms of the only man she's ever loved.


End file.
